


Kids Stuff

by Arkiem



Series: Pampered [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Accident in the workshop, Accidents, Age Play, Baby!Tony, Bathing/Washing, Cuddling, Daddies everywhere, Diapers, Feeding, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Infantilism, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sharing a Bed, Thumb-sucking, Wetting, kind of, non-sexual infantilism, nothing serious really, stuffed animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:55:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8309296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkiem/pseuds/Arkiem
Summary: The team can tell Tony misses all those things he considers childish, even if he stubbornly denies it. They are more than willing to provide him with what he wants, perhaps because they miss those things too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here you have the third installment of this series. I don't know where this is going, I have thought about just three episodes for this one up until now, but we never know. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> And yeah, the notes wouldn't be completed without my typical "let me know if you spot any mistakes" petition :P

Steve sat down and took his helmet off, sighing in relief. He had been fighting for the last five hours, and even if he could have continued for ten more, it was nice to finally be able to sit down. Letting himself relax, he leaned his head on the wall of the Quinjet and, out of the corner of his eye, he verified if everyone was there: Clint was sitting down in the driver’s seat, next to Natasha who would apparently be the co-pilot, Bruce was in front of him getting dressed, and Thor’s seat was empty as the God was not currently on Earth.

“Buckle up!” Clint ordered, though Steve knew perfectly well he didn’t mean it. Countless were the times in which Clint had taken off regardless the fact they had just boarded and hadn’t taken a sit yet. Steve remembered losing his balance and falling on Thor’s lap once. Clint had made fun of that for weeks.

“Sit down, Bruce,” Steve asked Bruce when he heard the doors starting to close, a sign that the Quinjet was just seconds away from taking off. Bruce obeyed, still buttoning up his shirt.

“Try not to crash, Legolas,” Tony warned from the closest seat to the door, surprising Steve. When had he arrived? Steve was sure he hadn’t been there some seconds ago.

“You wish!” Clint answered, a big grin on his face while he made the Quinjet rise. It wasn’t a subtle takeoff, but Steve figured that had been intentionally.

Turning his head to the right, Steve set his eyes on Tony, feeling something was off. Tony never flew back with them after the battles, he preferred to go solo. The only times Tony did ride with them was when he was too injured to make it to the Tower by himself, but that didn’t seem to be the case now, as Steve hadn’t heard anything about receiving a bad attack over the intercom – which was the way he usually found out if Tony had been badly injured, since Tony would never say it out loud, dreading too much to deal with the doctors.

When Tony took off his helmet, Steve scanned him with his eyes trying to detect any anomaly on him, but, besides the bags under his eyes – proof of the sleepless nights Tony kept stubbornly spending no matter how much everyone disagreed – and the sweat that ran freely on his face, there was nothing that showed something besides tiredness. Perhaps there was a wound hidden under his suit, though Steve doubted that. JARVIS tended to tell on his own creator when it was a matter of life or death.

So, why was Tony there?

During all the trip, Steve didn’t take his eyes off of Tony, just in case there was something wrong. Tony kept his eyes closed, head leaning back and arms resting on his lap, holding the helmet with his hands. Bruce asked him something related to the manufacture of some new guns in his suit, but Tony just mumbled an incomprehensible answer and groaned lazily when Bruce questioned him a second time, letting him know he didn’t want to have a conversation. Steve thought that wasn’t very Tony-like, he tended to gabble a lot, especially if it was something about his suit.

As soon as Clint landed on the Tower, Tony stood up and got off the Quinjet, before than anybody. Steve had to run to reach him and grab his upper arm in order to prevent him from leaving.

“Are you OK?” Steve asked him, pushing him to make him turn around and face him.

"I’m super-duper," Tony answered with a weak smile decorating his face, earning a confused look from Steve. Tony only used those old-fashion expressions when he wanted to mock Steve, yet there was no mocking in his tone of voice. 

It took Steve some seconds to let Tony go, convinced there was nothing wrong with him, at least not physically. There still was something off, though, and Steve got the feeling he knew what it was.

\- - - -

Steve switched the channels half-heartedly, not really paying attention to the TV. After a shower and a light dinner, he had settled on the sofa of the communal living room, often rubbing his eyes and shaking his head to prevent his tiredness from knocking him over. He might as well have gone to bed right away, but he wanted to be there when Tony showed up. Because even if Tony hadn't done so during the hour and a half Steve had been sitting there, Steve was sure he eventually would. 

Ever since Tony had completely healed – his incontinence problem long gone as well as the use of diapers – everything went back to how it exactly had been before. Tony was reckless during battle again, he spent too much time in his workshop without sleeping and his diet consisted once more in just caffeine and junk food. No more reaching out for any of them, no more letting himself being taken care of, no more sharing the bed, no more cuddles. 

The bad thing was that, now, whenever any of the team members tried to get Tony to sleep or eat something more nutritious, he argued he was more than capable of taking care of himself – something everybody doubted, as his decisions tended to show the opposite sometimes. And if any of them treated him in a way Tony considered childish in the slightest, he got angry. Very angry. So, eventually, everybody stopped trying to “boss him around”, as Tony put it, knowing the kind of reaction they would get and only putting their foot down when the situation called for it. 

Steve didn’t argue about it, after all, Tony was right. He was an adult, not a kid. He didn’t need to be told what to do – well, sometimes, he kind of did, but that wasn’t the point. The fact that Steve missed tucking Tony in bed at night, having him cuddled against his chest as he read a book out loud, or being awaken in the middle of the night because of a wet and uncomfortable diaper, couldn’t do anything on the matter. If Tony didn’t want to do all those things anymore, Steve had to respect that decision. 

But after some weeks, Steve started to notice a slight change in Tony’s behavior, usually when the latter seemed to be quite stress or tired. Instead of fleeing from the room, Tony tried to spend as much time as possible with any of them, even if he just stayed there in the same room without any kind of interaction. For a thousandth of a second, before losing his temper, Tony’s eyes looked with such a longingness whenever someone intended to reach for him, that it took all Steve’s will not to go and embrace him right there. And hesitation and desire emanating through every pore of Tony’s skin to say yes when anyone invited him to spend the night over at their floor, was impossible not to detect. Again, Steve had to refrain himself not to carry him to his room and cuddle him as Tony clearly – but stubbornly denied – wanted to do. 

Because of that, Steve felt very tempted to do something about it. If Tony enjoyed something Steve was more than willing to give, why not doing it? He had to be careful though, Tony being Tony had the annoying habit of depraving himself of having what he wanted when it wasn’t related to material things. The last thing Steve wanted to do was pushing him further away. 

When Steve’s attention was finally caught by a documentary about meerkats, he saw Tony entering the room out of the corner of his eye. With hesitancy, he walked toward him and flopped down onto the couch next to him. Even with his eyes focused on the screen, Steve could see the apprehension in Tony’s body. 

"I don't know why I keep paying for the best cable TV there is, I might as well get JARVIS to buy all the most boring documentaries there are in the world and you would be set for life," Tony commented, reaching for a cushion and placing it against his stomach, hugging it lazily. Tony used to criticize Steve’s habits quite often, Steve was used to it by now. What he wasn't used to was the lack of sarcasm in his voice. Steve was sure Tony did try to sound sarcastic, though he just hadn't been able to. 

"Well, my documentaries are more interesting and more educative than most of the things you watch," Steve stated, and he kept confirming there was something wrong when Tony didn't even bother to defend his taste in TV. That, and the fact that Tony stayed there, even if what was being played on the screen was totally dull according to him.

It was an hour before the documentary ended. Steve never moved his eyes from the screen, though he wouldn’t be able to answer what the documentary was about if somebody asked him, as his attention was completely focused on Tony. 

For the first twenty minutes, Tony pretended to be watching the TV, something he couldn’t keep on doing when his eyes began to clearly refused to stay open. Nervously, he moved closer to Steve, inch by inch, until they were almost pressed together. Steve didn’t show any sign of being aware of what Tony was doing, afraid he might get ashamed and leave. If Tony wanted to have some sort of nearness, let him have it. Had it been up to Steve, he would have let Tony sit down on his lap and sleep right there. But if Tony wanted to do it furtively, Steve had no problem with letting him do it that way. 

By the time the television network was announcing the next program, Tony had fallen asleep, his head resting on Steve’s shoulder in a way that assured he would experience neck pain the next day. Steve would have gladly stayed there, enjoying the closeness as much as he was sure Tony was, but said closeness had let his nose notice a no so pleasant scent coming from sweetly stubborn person next to him. Wondering if Tony had cleaned up after the battle, Steve forced himself to move. 

“Tony,” Steve called as he shook his shoulder carefully, regretting having to wake him up, when it was more than obvious he could benefit from an undisturbed sleep, “Tony, buddy, wake up,” he asked. Several minutes went by before Tony could wake up, hazy brown eyes finding very difficult just to blink.

“Huh?” Tony expressed, rubbing his eyes as if he was trying to keep his desire to go back to sleep away. Steve could see how mortification took over Tony when he realized he was leaning against him, as well as the faded pink blush that immediately appeared on his cheeks as he straightened, looking everywhere but where Steve was. 

“Sorry to wake you up buddy,” Steve apologized. He thought about excusing himself for waking him up by telling Tony he would be sore tomorrow if he kept sleeping in that uncomfortable position, but he rejected the idea, not wanting to highlight the fact he had realized what Tony had done, “but you stink,” he stated. Yes, Steve hadn’t meant to say it like that, but the words had left his mouth before he could think of another way to express it. 

A chuckle escaped from his mouth when he saw the mixed expressions on Tony’s face. “I meant no offense, sorry. what I wanted was to ask you if you’d taken a shower after the battle,” he paraphrased, Tony raised an eyebrow while he tried to suppress a yawn, unsuccessfully. “Did you?” Steve insisted, Tony shook his head. “Buddy, you have to take a shower, you can’t go to bed like that, you won’t be comfortable.”

“Dun wanna,” Tony mumbled, lying on the couch ready to go back to sleep. 

“I know you don’t, but you have to,” Steve informed, smiling fondly when he saw Tony taking a cushion and placing it over his head, “c’mon, up,” he ordered, but Tony just groaned. “Tony,” Steve called again, after waiting for Tony to show any sign of getting up for a couple of minutes, but he didn’t. 

“Goway,” Tony grumbled against the cushion.

“No, you have to take a shower.”

“No.”

“Yes. So, you decide whether you do it, or I do it,” Steve warned, knowing perfectly well that treat would make Tony get up. He knew Steve was more than capable of bathing him if he wanted to. 

“You,” Steve heard Tony say with a tiny voice.

“What?” Steve questioned, not sure of having heard correctly, “you want me to bath you?” he urged, but he didn’t receive any answer. 

Steve stood up and placed himself in front of Tony, pushing the couch a little to let Tony know he was there and give him a change to speak up if he hadn’t meant what he had said. But he didn’t, and Steve wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. 

Hesitantly, he leaned and slid his arms under Tony’s armpits, lifting him up. The last time Steve had tried to do this – when he had found Tony passed out on the couch of this workshop – Tony had gotten furious and had writhed and insulted him until Steve had finally let him go – not to mention Tony had even stopped talking to him for a couple of days. Steve was expecting Tony to do the same this time, so he was taken a bit aback when Tony latched onto him as soon as Steve set him on his hip, a protective arm around his waist. The realization of how much he had missed this hit Steve hard. He couldn’t help staying there for a brief moment and hugged him a bit too tightly, smiling to himself when Tony tightened his grip too instead of complaining about his action. 

Walking carefully and rubbing slow circles onto Tony’s back, Steve rode the elevator to Tony’s room. Once there, he headed directly to the bathroom and opened the water tap of the bathtub, so it started to fill as he went back to Tony’s room to retrieve the clothes he would put on him after the bath. 

When Steve set Tony down on the toilet seat and began to peel this t-shirt and pants off, Steve thought that would be the moment when Tony would awake from his stupor and would back out, but that didn’t happen. Steve even heard him whine when he moved away from him for some seconds in order to verify if the bath was ready and make sure the water was warm.

It was a quick bath, besides Tony’s plead of not wetting his head, he just sat back and let Steve do the job. Scrubbing a bit hard, yet tenderly, Steve made sure to get rid of all trail of dirt and sweat from Tony’s skin. By the time he had finished, Tony was already dozing off again. After an exhausting battle and staying who knows how many days in his workshop sleep-deprived, it was a wonder that Tony hadn’t fallen asleep inside his suit on their way back. 

Letting the water drain out of the tub, Steve got up and grabbed the closest towel he could find. He wrapped it around Tony’s shoulders and helped him to stand up, not surprised anymore when Tony refused to walk and Steve had to pick him up again to take him out of the bathroom. Not that Steve minded, of course.

Once in the room, he placed Tony on his bed and started to dry him up gently with the towel, manipulating him into a t-shirt and some boxers when all the drops of water where gone from his body. The idea of diapering him crossed Steve’s mind, as there still were some diapers left, but he ruled it out almost immediately. An opportunity like this one couldn’t be wasted, and diapering him would probably be the thing that made Tony get angry and walk away. There was no valid excuse for doing so, Tony hadn’t had an accident in months. 

Steve fought back the urge to take the towel back to the bathroom – though that didn’t mean he agreed with Tony when he said he was too tidy for his own good – choosing to throw it to the nearest chair and climb to bed immediately, not wanting to leave Tony alone for even a second. He sat down and leaned his back against the headboard, carefully lifting Tony and placing him on his lap, his left arm supporting his back. 

A shame Steve couldn’t spot any of the books they used to keep in Tony’s room close at hand, Tony must have gotten rid of them, otherwise he would have taken one. No matter how Tony denied it, Steve could always see the flash of enthusiasm that crossed Tony’s eyes at any time someone offered to read to him before bed. But when he felt how tense Tony’s body was, even if he had somehow melted into his embrace, Steve knew he would have to make a story up himself. Steve couldn’t really explain why, but his voice could always help to relax Tony to the point of sending him right to a peaceful sleep. He wasn’t sure if it was just him, or the same effect was caused by anyone else. Right now, that didn’t matter. 

Using his left hand to caress Tony’s belly, Steve started to narrate the story of a boy who was raised by the moon. Slowly, he could feel how Tony lost the tension, until he went completely limp. Without stopping talking, Steve looked down and he was pretty sure a goofy smile appeared on his face. Tony was fast asleep, a hand clutching Steve’s t-shirt as if he was afraid he might leave if he let go, a thumb tucked in his mouth. Not being able to resist, Steve bent a little and pressed a kiss to Tony’s forehead, his smile getting broader when Tony stirred contentedly under the touch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One month, one more month and vacation, which I need ASAP! 
> 
> I can't seem to find time to write, which stresses me a little. I'm the kind of person who gets an idea and wants to write it right away, because I lose inspiration very easily sometimes. So, today, I procrastinated some things I had to do for my job, and I'm probably going to regret doing that, but I don't care XD. I just needed to take this chapter out of my mind. 
> 
> So, as usual, if there's any mistake in the grammar or spelling, please let me know, I'll really appreciate it. I'm trying to improve my English. :)
> 
> Enjoy!

“What are you doing?” Steve asked as soon as he walked into the living room. 

“Getting things ready,” Clint answered matter-of-factly. Steve raised an eyebrow, clearly not understanding what Clint was doing.

“Ready for what? What are all those things?” Steve questioned, pointing at everything that was spread on the coffee table. 

“Board games,” Clint informed, without stopping checking the content of each box. It had been a while since the last time he had taken those board games out, and he wanted to make sure that any of the game pieces were missing. 

“Board games?” Steve echoed, trying to make sense of what was happening. 

“Yes, we’re playing board games,” Clint announced, a broad grin on his face. 

“How come?”

Taking some minutes off of his task, Clint sat back and chuckled a bit when he saw Steve’s puzzled expression. “Well, we usually watch movies on the rare occasions we’re all home, and I don’t know about you, but I think it’s getting rather boring,” he confessed, crossing his arms, “so, I figured we could do something different for once,” he finished saying, not being completely honest.

It was true that movie nights were becoming a little bit routine in his opinion, but if Clint had decided to change the dynamics that night, it hadn’t been the only reason. 

Lately, Tony began to spend too much time in his workshop. Again. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary – since Clint had moved in, he had noticed the abnormal number of hours Tony used to spend down there. Breaking that habit had been a very hard thing to do when Tony was released from the hospital and had been asked to rest as much as possible. Steve and Thor had to literally carry him several times out of there when he refused to leave, until they could come to an agreement with JARVIS, making the A.I. understand that locking the workshop for a while was for its creator’s own good. 

But now that Tony had healed completely, there was no reason to keep that deal any longer. Clint wasn’t going to lie, that habit of his had it perks. Tony usually came up with wonderful upgrades and improvements on their weapons, not even SHIELD’s best engineers could hold a candle to him when it came to technology. Although that didn’t mean he liked that habit. It couldn’t be healthy to spend that amount of time down there. 

At first, everybody tried to convince Tony not to spend days in a row in his workshop. Tony just nodded and said he wouldn’t stay there for too long, though he always ended up doing that exact thing. When the team kept insisting on the same request, Tony went from blowing them off to getting angry, which only ensured that Tony would do that thing they didn’t want him to do even more. Clint would somehow get his hands on Tony’s birth certificate, he needed to verify his theory about Tony’s middle name staring with _stub_ and ending with _born_. 

So, the only way to keep Tony away from his workshop was providing him with something he would consider more interesting and entertaining. Not an easy task, the things that Tony considered interesting were limited. 

At the beginning, movie-nights had been enough to keep him distracted. Introducing Steve and Thor to one of classic must-see movies was something Tony clearly enjoyed. But recently, it didn’t seem to be enough. Tony would stay just for some minutes, standing behind de couch, and then, he would leave the room excusing himself by saying he had to finish a thing for Pepper – which everybody knew was a lie, since a fuming Pepper would storm into the Tower days later looking for him, demanding why he hadn’t even started working on the projects she had asked for urgently – or that he had seen that movie too many times he didn’t feel like watching it again. 

And, since Tony seemed to enjoy playing video games with him – even if he had refused to play with him lately, arguing his time couldn’t be wasted with such childish stuff – he might as well be interested in playing board games. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Steve told him, folding his arms against his chest, thoughtful.

“Of course it is! Who can resist to board games?” Clint asked confidently. 

Before moving into the Tower, Clint used to live in SHIELD’S headquarters. The place wasn’t comfortable in general, but back then, he didn't mind – though now that he had experience living under the roof of someone who didn’t spare no expense when trying to get the best of everything, Clint was more than sure that his definition of comfortable had changed – as missions usually kept him away for quite a long time. But when there were no missions or he was benched for a while due to an injury, time there was eternal, since there was nothing to do. There wasn't even a TV that he could use to entertain himself with. Therefore, he started to like and collect board games. 

He would play with anyone who was willing to do so. Not long ago, Phil and Natasha used to play with him in their leisure time. However, both had stopped doing that eventually, arguing he cheated, which he certainly did not. Bending the rules wasn’t the same as cheating. 

And, if by any change Clint cheated, it was only because by doing so, things got more fun. Sometimes it was more about entertaining himself than actually winning at the game. What better way to amuse himself than watching the others stress out because they couldn’t tell if the card that had made him win was one from the pile of cards or from his secret stash. 

“I can think of someone who would be sure this is an activity for kids,” Steve hinted, frowning, obviously disagreeing, “and he’ll get mad.” 

“I’m sure he won’t,” Clint assured, resuming his task of getting everything ready.

“Hopefully, he won’t,” Steve wished, though Clint could detect uncertainty in his voice, “but if he does, you’ll be the one who drag him out of the workshop when he’s the sulking,” he warned, heading toward the door. Clint stuck his tongue out at him, but Steve was already gone.

\- - - -

Around eight p.m. everybody was settled on the floor, around the coffee table in the communal living room. When Clint had announced them the change of activities for the night, nobody had opposed to the idea. Steve had already known, so he didn’t make any comment. Natasha raised an eyebrow, gesture which spoke volumes without having to say actual words; Clint knew she would kick his ass if he dared to cheat. Thor had commented enthusiastically how a marvelous idea this had been, and practically run to the coffee table and sat down, waiting impatiently to experience a leisure time activity _migdardians_ used to do. Bruce just shrugged, as long as what they wanted to do didn’t involve something that might make him hulk out, he was willing to take part in anything.

Of course, Tony was nowhere to be seen, but Clint was confident he would show up eventually to get a refill of his cup of coffee – after almost three days in his workshop, his own supply of coffee must have run out by now. 

Monopoly, that was the first game Clint decided to play. He regretted it almost immediately. After almost half an hour of explanation, he was pretty sure Thor and Steve hadn’t understood the rules even if they said they had. Steve was selected to be the banker, since he was the most honest person among everyone there. Another bad idea, because later Clint would find out that it would be hard for Steve to keep up playing two roles at the same time. He would have gladly been the banker, but Natasha didn’t let that happen, arguing he tended to cheat and steal money. Obviously, Clint didn’t do that, he just borrowed money for a while and pay it back as soon as he had the chance. It wasn’t his fault if he never had said chance. 

Tony decided to show up when Clint was trying to make Thor understand that the tokens had no especial meaning and that he should just pick one randomly so they could start playing. It took Thor around five more minutes to decide which of the tokens looked the mightiest. Tony made a beeline for the kitchen, going past them and acknowledging their presence until he had refilled his cup and had taken a sip of his coffee. 

“What are you doing?” Tony asked while he approached them, his cup of coffee well placed in his hands. 

“Playing monopoly,” Clint informed, though they hadn’t even started. Clint refrained himself from rolling his eyes – he didn’t want Tony to think this was anything but fun – when Thor started to look carefully at the houses, as if he was trying to figure out if there was something different between them. “wanna join? We’re about to start,” he proposed.

“Er… sorry, I've got better things to do,” Tony declined the invitation. The hesitation when he answered didn’t go unnoticed by Clint. 

“C’mon, what can be more important than spending some quality time with your teammates?” Clint insisted, taking away a house from Thor’s hand. 

“Adult stuff,” Tony replied a bit annoyed, “you kids can continue with your toys,” he snorted, walking towards the elevator. Clint could see how Tony took some unnecessary seconds to order JARVIS to take him to the workshop, his eyes laid on them.

\- - - -

After forty minutes, Clint confirmed Monopoly hadn’t been the best choice. Not being the banker meant he couldn’t win that easily. Steve took too much time to roll the dice every time, making sure his money hadn’t mixed with the money of the bank, and counting the bills twice before handing them in so he didn’t give extra money by accident. Natasha slapped Clint on the hand when he tried to take the bills from Steve’s grip, too desperate for his slowness. And Thor didn’t seem to understand he couldn’t borrow money from Bruce, the fact that Bruce seemed to have more money than he was willing to spend didn’t matter.

Even when he was about to take some five-hundred bills from the stash of the bank behind Steve’s back, Tony had given him away. Clint would have gotten mad if he hadn’t been pleased because of Tony’s presence, which he was sure had been due to his desire of being there, not to a coffee-refill. Two refills in forty minutes was too much even for Tony, especially since he could have taken the bag of coffee downstairs and use his own coffee maker. 

Sorry! was the next one to be played. Thor’s recommendation, who had been interested in that one just because of its name. Clint was certain Thor had been kind of disappointed when he saw the dynamics of the game. He hadn't wanted to asked him what he had imagined the game like, they had already lost to much time with the explanation of the rules. 

Once more, Tony showed up for two refills – and gave him away for a second time when he had placed one of his pawns on an incorrect spot on purpose. By now, Tony should have known it was very obvious that that was just an excuse to be there. There was no need for him to stay behind them for a couple of minutes while he blew on the coffee. However, Clint refrained himself from inviting Tony to play again, afraid that would push him away. If only Tony stopped being so stubborn and sat down already! Clint was getting rather frustrated for not being able to do something about his pouting friend. Yes, even if Tony swore he didn’t pout, what Tony had on his face was definitely a moue. 

It was until they started playing Scrabble that Tony gather the enough courage to not go back to his workshop and sit down on the sofa. He sat down on the furthest spot and didn't exactly join in the game, but having him there was a huge step considering the circumstances. Nobody made any comment about his presence, knowing as well as Clint that would just send him away. 

“For Fuck’s sake, Steve!” Tony exclaimed after some minutes, startling everyone, “just place the tiles already and kick everyone’s asses!”

“But I don’t have any word,” Steve complained confused. Clint could see how he had refrained himself from commenting on Tony’s vocabulary. 

“Yes, you do!” Tony assured, clearly exasperated. 

“I just have _guy_ , that won’t make me win,” Steve pointed out, scratching the back of his head. 

“Jesus!” Tony shrieked as he stood up suddenly and walked closer to them. Clint had to move to his right when Tony kneeled between him and Steve, snatching the tile holder from Steve’s hands. 

“That’s not a word!” Clint accused as soon as Tony had placed the tiles on the board. By the look that everyone else had on their faces – well, everybody but Bruce – he was sure they agreed on his accusation. 

“Of course it is!” 

“No, it’s not! What the hell does syzygy mean? I’ve never heard that!” Clint asked, trying to recall if there was something in his mind that told him the meaning of it. There was nothing. 

“It’s when the sun, the earth and the moon align,” Bruce deadpanned. 

“Bruce, my friend! The only one who speaks my language!” Tony declaimed, grinning. Clint rolled his eyes. 

“You two must read an encyclopedia when all of us are having fun,” Clint muttered, speaking loud enough to make sure Tony heard. 

“I don’t need to read an encyclopedia to beat you in scrabble, Hood,” Tony retorted, leaning a bit so he could gather all the tiles and put them in the bag. 

“Let’s see you try,” Clint challenged, trying to hide a smile of satisfaction. As far as he was concerned, he had already won.

\- - - -

OK, Scrabble turned out to be a bad choice too. Tony created words nobody but Bruce understood. Steve hadn’t been able to come up with more than four-letter words in every round, five if he had an _s_. Clint kept arranging the tiles in order to create acronyms and abbreviations of rude words and expressions. Natasha kept smacking him on the back of his head every time he did that. And Thor, well, it had been very hard to make him understand that he couldn’t use words nobody knew – meaning, Asgardian words. Thor argued that, if Tony and Bruce used words just understood by themselves, he could do the same.

They tried several more games. Bop it, which Thor ended up breaking by accident, hitting it too strongly. Cards Against Humanity, which Steve found extremely insulting and made Clint promise not to ever suggest playing it again – Tony loved it, and made him promise to play it again when mister goody-goody wasn’t around. Jenga, which almost made Bruce hulk out, as he sneezed the moment the was placing a block on the top, making him lose when he was about to win. Pictionary, which made Tony sat down sulkily since his drawings looked like a three-year-old scrawls next to Steve’s. Even a memory game, of which Natasha won every round.

Near midnight, Clint could sense tiredness starting to wreak havoc on his body. He might have as well called it a night if it hadn’t been for the apparent contentment in Tony’s eyes. So, he stood up and went to the kitchen, if they were going to stay there for a little while more, some snacks would be nice. When he was opening the cabinets to grab a package of chips, he closed the door. There wasn’t the slightest doubt that Tony had skipped a few meals, so he decided to make some sandwiches instead of serving any of the junk food he had stashed. Also, Bruce was there, and Clint shivered a little by the thought of Bruce scolding him for providing Tony with junk food after what had happened he last time he did that. Clint was sure as hell he didn’t want to make Tony sick ever again. 

When Clint placed the tray with sandwiches in the middle of the coffee table, he thought Tony would complain about the fact he had gotten his own plate and glass with his own portion of food. It was a well-known fact Tony disliked the combination of cheese and ham, so Clint opted to make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The milkshake had been just a bonus, no matter how hard Tony denied it, Clint knew he loved milkshakes. But being too immersed in the game, Tony’s left hand brought the food automatically to his mouth, while he used his right hand to roll the dice. 

At the end, they settled for a card game, Uno. It was easy to understand and there was no way it could cause any problem. 

Clint turned his head a little and saw Tony out of the corner of his eye as he placed a Wild Draw Four card with a broad grin on his face. That move prevented Natasha from winning the hand. Clint smiled fondly. He had missed this. He had missed playing with Tony. Clint wasn’t sure if Tony was aware of it, but he relaxed in a way he never did – not even when he was doing his magic in his workshop – whenever he played. The smile that these activities put on his face lacked sarcasm and mockery, and showed nothing but pure enjoyment. 

A shame Tony refused to admit he liked it. 

Although no one could deny themselves something they liked for a long time. Especially when it was something a far cry from bad. If Clint had to, he would gladly come up with ideas to trick Tony into spending more time doing things like these, until he realized there was nothing wrong with it. 

But that would be for other day. Today, Clint would let himself feel proud of the fact that he had been able to keep Tony out of his workshop, at least for a night, and enjoy himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow I have a day off due to holidays (Thanks God! I do need it) so, today I could sit down and finish this chapter I had unfinished since last week. It kind of gave me a headache. I can't seem to feel comfortable writting Thor, especially because of the way he talks. Hopefully, I didn't screw it up. 
> 
> Please, let me know if you see a misspelling or grammar mistake :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Technology was something fascinating. It's true that it took Thor some time to get the hang of it –all the Stark gadgets were more complex than the ones he had used – but now that he had mastered it, he could enjoy all its perks. Undoubtedly, his favorite one would always be the possibility of talking and seeing Jane even if they were miles away. Thor still preferred a face-to-face conversation more than one through a screen, but when you were required to stay in New York to deal with something related to SHIELD, this was the best option. 

"You should come here, my dear Jane, in the words of my fellow Tony, you are more than welcome in the Tower whenever you want," Thor assured, rising a bit too much his voice, afraid Jane might not hear him correctly. The fact that Jane winced every time he talked went unnoticed by him. 

"I know that, but Darcy and I promised Dr. Selvig to help him with a research,” Jane informed him, “you can come over if you’d like, I’m sure I can make some time to hang out,” she offered. Thor was sure she could see his disappointed expression. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, I also have matters to attend in here,” Thor explained, now it was his turn to see disappointment on Jane’s face. He didn’t like to be the responsible of any negative feelings. 

“Let’s make a deal, the first one who gets free first will pay a visit to the other one, deal?” Jane suggested, Thor didn’t hesitate to agree. 

Jane told him all the details about her work his Dr. Selvig. Although Thor paid undivided attention to everything she was saying, there were so many things he didn’t come to understand. That didn’t stop him from smiling and nodding when he considered it was necessary, nor from enjoying the conversation. Thor loved seeing how enthusiastic Jane got whenever he talk about her work. 

After almost two hours, in which Thor had the opportunity to delight her with the story of his last odyssey back in Asgard, they had to bid farewell. If it had been up to Thor, he would have gladly continued talking to her all day long, but it hadn’t. Darcy had interrupted them announcing lunch time was over, and Jane and her needed to resume their job. Speaking of lunch, as soon as Thor ended the videocall, he could hear his stomach demanding food noisily. It didn’t surprise him though, he tended to ignore everything when talking to Jane, even the fact that he hadn’t eaten since he had left Asgard. 

Putting his Starkphone aside, Thor walked toward the elevator with the intention of going down to the communal kitchen. The refrigerator located in the floor Tony had provided for his personal use was surely stuck with food, but he wasn’t good at cooking – Tony couldn’t explain how he had burned to a cinder a pan the last time he felt confident enough to cook. It was a better idea to go and see if, by any chance, Steve or Bruce had cooked something. They were very nice and generous fellows. Whenever they cooked something, they ensured to make enough just in case somebody else showed up for lunch or dinner.

\- - - -

"Tony, just give it a try. It's going get cold again," Thor heard Steve saying as he left the elevator and got closer to the kitchen.

"I don't like it," Thor heard Tony complain. He could make his teammates out until he was inches away from the kitchen. Tony was slouched on the chair and his arms were crossed over his chest, clearly unhappy. Steve was sitting in front of him in a way that showed he was rather tensed and frustrated, even if it was evident he was trying to hide it. 

"How can you say that if you haven't even tried it?" Steve asked, pushing the plate closer to Tony. “Besides, it’s chicken and spaghetti, who doesn’t like chicken and spaghetti? I’m sure you do, I’ve seen you eating it before,” he asserted. 

"Well, then, I'm not hungry," Tony uttered. Thor could tell he was lying for the expression on his face. 

"Not even you believe that," Steve accused, "JARVIS informed me you haven't eaten anything but a couple of energy bars and coffee during the two days you've been down there. It’s not possible you’re not hungry,” he stated, a glimpse of irritation crossing his face.

“My stomach has shrunk, I don’t need as much food as before,” Tony informed, smiling slyly when he heard Steve couldn’t help grunting. 

“How are you my dear fellows?” Thor greeted as he walked towards the table. Both Steve and Tony startled slightly, they hadn’t noticed his presence due to their little argument. 

“Hi, Thor. How are you?” Steve asked politely, turning his head to look at him, even if his attention was clearly on the plate his hand was holding to prevent Tony from pushing it away. Thor walked towards them.

“Magnificent, you?” Thor answered, pulling the chair next to Tony to sit down. There was no other word that could describe his mood in that moment. Jane had that effect on him. 

“Can’t complain,” Steve said, glaring at Tony when the latter kept trying to move the plate as far as possible from him. Tony stuck out his tongue to Steve when he couldn’t make him lose the grip on the plate. Steve rolled his eyes. “Stop pushing the plate like that, you’re gonna drop it,” he scolded. 

“You’re the one who’s pushing it,” Tony affirmed. 

“No, you’re the one who’s pushing it, I’m just putting it back where it’s supposed to be,” Steve defended himself.

“If you didn’t put it back, I wouldn’t have to push it,” Tony objected.

Steve sighed deeply, “I put it back so you can reach it and eat.” 

“There’s the nub of the issue, you already know I’m not eating, so, you don’t have to put it back. You’re the one who’s causing all this senseless argument,” Tony claimed staring at Steve, the smirk still on his face. Even Thor knew this dispute was going nowhere. Everybody knew arguing with Tony was a dead-end road. 

“You have to eat,” Steve noted, rubbing his right temple with his free hand. 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Yes, you do. You promised to take better care of yourself,” Steve proclaimed, disapproval in his voice. 

Tony raised one eyebrow and scratched his chin, “I don’t remember promising such a thing.”

“You did. When we agreed to leave you alone, you promised that, and up until now, all you have done is exactly the opposite,” Steve criticized, his frustration now completely clear in every inch of his body. Thor just looked at them without saying a word, he got the feeling he would make things worse if he did so. 

Sticking his tongue out again, Tony slouched even more on his chair and let Steve move the plate as close as possible. He didn’t make any attempt to grab the fork, though. 

“I figure you’re hungry,” Steve said. It took Thor some seconds to realized he had talked to him, as his eyes were fixed on Tony. There was something stinging familiar about this scene. 

“I am, indeed,” Thor conceded.

“Very well then, let me fix you something to eat,” Steve volunteered as he stood up, walking to the island. 

“He can have mine, I’m not eating it!” Tony offered, already pushing his plate in front of Thor.

“No, I have more than enough food for Thor here. You’re eating that, if you don’t, you’re not going back to your workshop,” Steve warned before opening the door of the fridge. His head got lost inside of it, apparently looking for what he was going to give to Thor. 

Tony glared at the him, but Steve couldn’t see him, “you know what? I don’t have to take this crap,” he avowed, standing up sharply, “If I’m telling you I’m not hungry is because I’m not, and you can’t make me eat!” he exclaimed, pushing the chair he was sitting on back in its place brusquely. 

Thor didn’t seem to understand what the problem was. It was clear Steve had been the one who cooked that meal. According to him, everything that Steve made was delicious, and he was pretty sure everyone else agreed with that. So, why Tony didn’t want to eat was beyond his comprehension. Perhaps the reason was the same one that Thor had come to learn, the one that explained every single action his fellow Tony did: Tony was just being Tony. 

“You know, Loki used to do exactly this,” Thor commented as he reached and grabbed Tony’s wrist, pulling him closer until Tony ended up sitting on his lap. Thor could hear a squeak from his friend, his action taking him by surprised, “there was a period of time, when we both were kids, when he used to refuse eating every single day,” he remembered, and he was completely sure the nostalgia he felt suddenly showed on his face. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Tony asked, with an expression of annoyance and horror. He tried to get away immediately, but Thor surrounded his waist with his left arm, keeping him in place with ease, “Let me go!”

“And you know what? Later I came to know he didn’t do that because he didn’t like the food in front of him, he was just doing it to get our father’s and mother’s attention. I guess he began to grow jealous since a very early age. Although nobody was aware of that back then, not even him,” Thor kept telling, tightening his grip a little since Tony started to struggled harder. 

“I don’t care about your babbling! Let. Me. Go!” Tony ordered, emphasizing each word with a punch on Thor’s arm. They did nothing to Thor. 

“First tell me something, why don’t you want to eat?” Thor questioned, looking down a bit so his eyes could meet Tony’s. 

“Because I’m not hungry,” Tony answered, intending to push Thor’s arm away from him, without success.

“You know that’s a lie, I can feel how you stomach is growling,” Thor informed, noticing a slight shade of red on Tony’s cheeks. “So, I ask you again, why don’t you want to eat my dear fellow?”

“Because I don’t like it,” Tony mumbled.

“Another lie, everybody knows our friend Steve cooks marvelously,” Thor stated. He wasn’t an expert on recognizing facial expressions – especially after hearing Tony arguing thousands of times he did not do such a thing – but Thor could swear Tony pouted when hearing what he had just said. “So, why don’t you want to eat?” he insisted. 

“I dun wanna,” Tony continued mumbling, folding his arms over his chest, forgetting his intention of getting away.

“That’s not a reason,” Thor assured, lifting Tony a little so he sat down more comfortably. He had slipped a little when trying to get free. 

“It is for me,” Tony alleged. After a few seconds, Tony couldn’t keep his gaze and he had to look away. 

Thor sighed deeply. Tony did remind him of Loki sometimes, especially in these situations when he was so insufferably stubborn. “Why don’t you try it?” he suggested, but Tony shook his head immediately, “Come one, I’m certain you will find it tastes excellently,” he prompted, still getting a negative answer. 

Leaning carefully, enough to reach the plate Tony had paced in front of him when Steve had stood up, Thor grabbed the fork with his right hand and cut a piece of the chicken. Then, he stuck it into the fork and lifted it close to Tony’s mouth, who moved his head backwards right away.

“Try it,” Thor insisted as he brought the fork closer, Tony kept shaking his head.

“Dun wanna” Tony muttered, being careful of not opening his mouth wide enough so Thor couldn’t take advantage of it and shove the fork into his mouth. Thor would have never done that. Although he did keep trying to feed him the chicken, but Tony always managed to move his head so that didn’t happen. When Tony turned in a way Thor was certain would cause him harm in his neck if he continued like that, he stopped his attempts. 

However, his determination was unbreakable, if he had been able to convince Loki to eat when they were children, Thor could certainly do the same with Tony. Perhaps using the same tactics, that he had used with his brother, was the best approach. After all, Thor couldn’t shake the feeling Tony and Loki seem to have a similar temperament. That, or Thor really missed Loki and he was seeing him in places Loki wasn’t. 

Thor took some minutes to recall what he did when this situation occurred back home, and he couldn’t help smiling sadly at the memory of it. 

“Here comes the mightiest Sleipnir, his galloping never stops, if you don’t open your mouth, it’s going to crash and hurt itself,” Thor said chantingly, moving the fork in a way it resembled a horse galloping, “and you don’t want that to happened, do you?” he asked, earning a glare from Tony, “You didn’t like it?”

“Of course not!” Tony said offended. Thor was sure now, Tony was pouting. 

“I used to do this and Loki loved it,” Thor commented, sounding confused. His had seen his mother doing that with Loki once. It turned out the same way it did now. But later, Thor had tried it, and, even if Loki hadn’t exactly loved it, he hadn’t disliked it either. Of course, it worked just a few times. When Loki got older, Thor ended up with food on his face when he did that. 

“I’m not a kid!” Tony snapped, pushing Thor’s arm away.

Sighing heavily for a second time, Thor let Tony move his arm. It was a good thing Thor wasn’t known for giving up easily, so he tried a couple more times to trick Tony into taking a bite of the chicken by pretending the fork was something else. Needless to say that the only thing he achieved was deepening Tony’s frown, who closed his mouth as hard as he could and dodged every time Thor managed to take the fork closer.

“Stop!” Tony ordered when Thor was trying to come up with another idea, “I don’t wanna eat!” 

“But I can’t comprehend why,” Thor stated, looking truly confused, his eyes fixed on the piece of chicken poked into the fork. 

“You don’t have to understand why, you just have to let me go once and for all!” Tony demanded, kicking his legs in the air as a sign of protest. 

“Can it be possible it truly tastes bad?” Thor wondered, staring at the chicken. Ignoring Tony’s squirming, Thor brought the chicken into his mouth and chewed it slowly, savoring it. As he had thought, it was delicious. “For Odin, this tastes remarkable!” He exclaimed, maybe a bit too enthusiastically, while he cut another piece and placed it in his mouth. 

Out of the corner on his eyes, Thor could see Tony’s apprehensive expression. He had stopped writhing and was frowning at him with disbelief, his mouth open as if he desired to say something, but no word was pronounced whatsoever. Thor tried to put on a deadpan face. 

“It’s mine!” Tony finally dared to speak up, before Thor bit the fifth piece of chicken. 

“I beg your pardon?” Thor asked, faking incomprehension. 

“You’re eating my food!” Tony accused. Once more, there was the frown that looked more like a moue.

“Of course I am, you were very clear about not wanting to eat it,” Thor reminded him, “And this is rather delicious to let it go to waste,” he finished saying, taking another bite. Tony’s eyes opened in shock. 

“No!” Tony demanded again, grabbing Thor’s wrist with both hands as an intent to prevent him from continuing eating. 

“What?” Thor asked, pretending obliviousness while he stopped his intend to take to his mouth a portion of spaghetti, “would you like to try it too?” Tony hesitated a bit, but then he shook his head timidly without saying a word. 

Poking another piece of chicken, Thor moved the fork closer to Tony. The latter looked at Thor skeptically, then at the fork, and once more at Thor, as if he was trying to figure out something. After a few seconds, Tony opened his mouth doubtfully and waited until Thor moved the fork forward into it. Thor was sure Tony’s intention had been to hide the fact that he had found the food tasty, but the small moan that escaped his throat when he was chewing and tasting the chicken gave him away. Thor refrained himself from commenting anything, knowing in advanced that doing so would make Tony reject any other portion of food offered later.

When Steve returned to the table with them and realized Thor had managed to persuade Tony to eat, Steve looked at him with an expression that could only be described as sheer contentment and gratitude. Everybody knew he was the one who argued the most with Tony about his terrible eating habits. 

Placing a second plate on the table, Steve pushed one of the pieces of chicken from his plate to Tony’s, being careful not to be noticed by the latter. But Tony didn’t, he was more focused on the fork Thor was using to feed him, as if he believed the mere fact of not looking at it would make Thor take it into his mouth instead of his. 

Thor smiled fondly as he continued feeding Tony. This trick never failed with Loki, and apparently, nor with Tony. The more he encouraged Loki to eat, the more Loki refused to do it. It was just a matter of contradicting him, really. Or perhaps envy, who knows. The point was that, whenever Thor threatened to take any meal away and eat it himself, Loki suddenly wanted to eat again. 

When Tony’s plate was empty, Steve handed him a glass containing what seemed to be lemonade, which, in turn, he placed between Tony’s hands. Surprisingly, he took it without hesitation, and leaned on Thor’s chest while he drank the liquid through a straw, making bubbly sounds occasionally. 

Thor proceeded to satisfy his hunger, chatting animatedly with Steve and caressing Tony’s abdomen absent-mindedly. His stomach had ceased growling and that made Thor feel peaceful somehow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it took me forever to finish this chapter. I just couldn't get around to it. I've been having too much work lately, and my city is a chaos, literally. Our governor stole a huge quantity of money (and ran away) and now there are tons of people who haven't gotten paid, so there are protests everyday, which made me arrive late to my job. It's just been stressful. 
> 
> Anyway. thank you for your comments, they're truly appreciated. 
> 
> As usual, see any mistakes? Please, let me know :)

Of all the team members, the only one who understood why Tony spent too much time down in his workshop was Bruce. 

Sometimes, Tony used it as a hideout. Everybody needed to spend some time alone and there was nothing wrong with that. Bruce tended to distance himself as much as possible too, maybe even more than Tony did. The difference was that he did it for short periods and not for days in a row. Also, unlike Tony, Bruce never risked his life by starving himself, just because he didn’t feel like going upstairs and fix himself something to eat. 

Other times, Tony used the workshop as a workshop – forgive the repetition – to work on a project. Bruce could definitely see the reason behind this, as he himself had experienced that a few times. An idea appeared in your mind out of nowhere and you just felt the need of carrying it through in one sitting, afraid the details would slip away if you didn’t. The bad thing was that, being a genius, Tony got ideas way too complex to carry them out all at once. 

Yes, Bruce understood Tony’s way of acting. Although that didn’t mean he approved of that unhealthy habit. If it were up to him, he would drag Tony out of there every single day to make sure he had enough sleep and food in his stomach. But good luck trying to make Tony take a break during those times. Whoever attempted to do so, would end up having an argument with him. 

“You’ve been here for two days, you haven’t slept or eaten correctly, what if we are required to assemble? You can’t fight like this, it’s dangerous,” Bruce had said, trying to talk some sense into Tony’s head. He didn’t want to have to bring Steve. Lately, Steve tended to literally carry Tony out of the workshop without further warning, which just ended in Tony having a huge tantrum – of course Tony got mad when Bruce used that word, arguing tantrums were something only kids threw, but Bruce failed to find another word to describe his behavior in those occasions. 

“Hey, hey, Bruce, my _brainmate_ , Bruce, you’re not listening to me,” Tony had complained, faking an expression of disappointment. 

“I don’t need to, there’s no valid excuse for you to stay here more time, you can continue working tomorrow,” Bruce had insisted.

“Just listen,” Tony had asked, getting closer to him and placing his hands on his shoulders, trying to get his attention, “An armor strong enough to send the big guy to sleep if he ever gets out of control. And a shuttle that’s always around you to deploy it when it’s needed. Tell me that doesn’t sound appealing,” he had challenged, and that had been all that Bruce needed to hear to be all in. 

So, apparently, there were two possible outcomes when trying to get Tony out of the workshop, not just one. You either had an argument with him or you ended up being dragged into the project. 

Bruce couldn’t be blamed though, that project sounded fantastic. He knew the Hulk couldn’t be defeated, but if Tony was capable (and Bruce knew he was) of building something that could at least knock him out, it would be more than enough for Bruce. And he had to be a part of its development, who else could have provided a better input? 

Staying there in the workshop with Tony a bit longer would do no harm. But soon, the minutes turned into hours, and then, into days. His brain had been so immersed in the calculations and designs that Bruce overlooked his physiological needs, and he became aware of his hunger until JARVIS interrupted to remind them that they hadn’t ingested anything but coffee in more than 48 hours. And even so, Bruce refused to stop working to go to the kitchen as much as Tony did. Energy bars and sandwiches made by Dummy would have to do in the meantime. 

By the end of the third day, it started to be difficult to keep up, and both had to squint in order to be able to read and distinguish the holograms in front of them. It was until then, when Bruce remembered he was supposed to bring Tony out of his workshop and not join him. Of course, he couldn’t convince Tony to do so. At the most, Bruce persuaded him to lie down for a while on the couch after working for one more hour. Bruce couldn’t blame him, though, he was as excited with the project as Tony was.

\- - - -

Letting a loud grunt make its way through his throat, Bruce came to consciousness slowly. He was exhausted, hungry, and in pain. He had fallen asleep sitting down, and his head had leaned backwards in an uncomfortable position during his sleep. The back of the couch wasn’t high enough to support it. He didn’t know for how much time he had been out, but it couldn’t have been long, taking into consideration that it was still dark outside, as it had been when they moved to the couch.

Bruce was about to wonder why he had even woken up, when something hit him in the leg, answering his never-asked question. He turned his head a bit and saw that that something had been Tony, who was lying on the couch next to him. Oh yes, that was why he had had to sit down, Tony had taken most of the sofa, leaving him limited space. Well, at least Tony wouldn’t wake up with sore joints like him. He was more in need of a good night’s sleep than Bruce. 

Another sudden kick, harder than the last one, got Bruce slightly out of his drowsy stupor. He forced his brain to start working again, but he was so tired that it would take a little while to accomplish that. Two more kicks followed, this time accompanied by silent moans coming from Tony’s mouth. What was going on? Bruce had spent the night with Tony a few times and he didn’t remember Tony being so fidgety when sleeping. He might have moved a lot when trying to sneak out of the bed to come to the workshop, but that was something totally different.

It took some more kicks for everything to click. Tony must be having nightmare. 

What was Bruce supposed to do? He knew Tony had pretty bad dreams once in a while, but not once he had been around when it happened. He wasn’t even the one who Tony looked for after being awaken by one, so Bruce wasn’t sure how he should act in these situations. It was true that he also had some nightmares, but he usually dealt with them by himself. 

Should he let Tony wake up by himself or should he wake him up? Wasn’t that dangerous? Bruce was still a bit drowsy to think straight, but, if his memory served him right, that was something you weren’t supposed to do in case of sleepwalking, not having a nightmare. So, waking him up it was. 

“Tony… Tony… Tony, buddy, wake up,” Bruce ordered, shaking his shoulders energetically. “C’mon Tony, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up... wake up!” Maybe Bruce should have been subtler, but Tony was getting more restless by now, worrying him. 

Bruce didn’t know whether Tony was too deeply asleep because of exhaustion or because of how terrible his bad dream was, but when he saw Tony starting to blink in an attempt to come to consciousness after several minutes of trying to wake him up, Bruce felt extremely relieved. On the contrary, as soon as Tony could keep his eyes open and get rid of the blurry and misty vision, there was more fear than relief in the way Tony looked at him. 

Almost instantly, Tony pushed Bruce, who managed to grab Tony’s wrists to prevent him from hurting them both. That wasn’t such a good idea, since Tony continued pushing him now with his legs, which only led him to fall from the sofa. 

“Woah, woah, Tony, relax, it’s me. It’s Bruce,” Bruce said as he lifted his hands in front of him, showing Tony he was no threat. Tony had to take some more seconds to realized his surroundings weren’t part of the nightmare anymore, but reality. 

“Bruce?” Tony asked, still a bit confused, blinking several times. 

“Yes, it’s me,” Bruce assured, backing a little to give Tony some space, “are you OK?” he asked, already looking for any sign of injure. The fall hadn’t been that bad, but Bruce was the kind of person who thought one could never be too cautious. 

“Yes,” Tony answered, a slight tremblor in his voice. Bruce figured that wasn’t cause by the fall, but by the nightmare. 

They stayed there for several minutes, Bruce sitting on the couch and Tony on the floor, without saying a word. Besides the fact that Bruce couldn’t think of anything to say, Tony looked like he could use some minutes of silence to be able to catch his breath and calm down. Whenever Bruce had a bad dream, the last thing he wanted was somebody talking to him, or even worse, asking him what the nightmare had been about. 

“I guess we should go upstairs and get some rest, we can continue working later,” Bruce suggested when Tony seemed a little more relaxed. 

Truth to be told, Bruce expected Tony to refuse, so he was somewhat taken aback when he nodded. The room lit up a little without Bruce having to ask for it. JARVIS was always aware of everything. Though Bruce wished JARVIS hadn’t done so. Now that the light was on, Bruce could notice how Tony’s jeans got darker on the crotch area, irrefutable prove that he had lost control of his bladder while sleeping. 

Bruce felt uneasy again. This was a far cry from being the first time Tony had had an accident, but, given the circumstances, this would only make him feel worse. Bruce didn’t want that to happen. 

Unfortunately, when Bruce was about to think how he could lighten the mood, Tony looked at him confused, eyes scanning his face as if he was trying to understand the reason of the troubled expression Bruce surely had on his face. Following Bruce’s eyes, Tony looked down at his lap, and then again to Bruce.

“I… I…I don…,” Tony babbled, his face turning red, clearly ashamed of what had happened. 

“Hey, no, no, no. It’s OK, no harm done,” Bruce reassured him, leaning so he could put his hands on his shoulders, squeezing them a little trying to comfort him. Tony’s expression showed how seized he was with mortification and Bruce couldn’t understand why. For someone who had been wearing and using diapers, and even been changed not long ago, this shouldn’t be such a big deal. Maybe the nightmare was still affecting him. “It’s OK, it was just an accident,” he tried to downplayed the situation using a tone of voice as tender as possible and rubbing Tony’s upper arms. 

Of all the reactions Bruce imagined Tony having, crying was never one of them. Bruce was really taken aback when tears began to well up in Tony’s eyes. Apprehension took over him. Scolding was something he had no problem with doing. Nor with taking care of someone when being sick. But comforting, well, it wasn’t his cup of tea. 

It was true that comforting could be done just by saying the right words, but Bruce knew the comfort Tony needed in that moment required more than the pronunciation of some cheesy lines found in a card. Tony needed the kind of comfort which required physical contact. More physical contact than Bruce was capable of providing. He had never been a fan of it, not really. And, ever since he had become the Hulk, it had gotten worse. All proximity with any living being made him nervous, it put him on the edge. The idea of hulking out by accident and smashing whoever or whatever that was close to him was always in his mind, and it terrified him.

Yes, Bruce had pushed his own boundaries since he started to live in the Tower. It was impossible to avoid all kind of closeness when living with someone else, especially with Tony, who clearly craved for any kind of touch even if he stubbornly denied it. Even so, Bruce was more comfortable keeping his distance. Particularly in situations like this, when he was so exhausted and his mind was a bit too numb to be able to fight back in case the Hulk wanted to show up. 

“It’s OK Tony, accidents happen,” Bruce said, feeling terrible when Tony cleaned the tears before letting them shed, as that action made him feel somehow relieved. “C’mon, let’s go upstairs so you can clean up, you’ll feel better.” 

Standing up slowly, Bruce couldn’t help grunting once as he felt how all the muscles in his body ached. Long were the days where he could sleep in any surface and any position without repercussions. He held out his hand to Tony to help him stand up, though Tony hesitated before accepting his help. When Bruce was sure Tony could keep the balance, he turned around and walked toward the elevator. The sooner they leave the workshop, the better. 

But Tony didn’t follow him. When Bruce reached the elevator, he noticed Tony had stayed right next to the couch. Was he planning on staying in the workshop? That was no possible, Tony must be exhausted and his jeans couldn’t be comfortable now that they were wet. Bruce walked back to him, a scolding on the tip of his tongue, but it drifted away before being spoken. 

“Tony?” Bruce called, noticing how Tony shivered at the sound of his voice. There was no trace of the usual defiant attitude he had whenever somebody asked him to leave his workshop. Quite the opposite, actually. He looked a bit ashamed, lost, like if he didn’t know what to do next. Bruce sighed. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your room,” he offered as he held Tony’s hand.

This time Tony followed when he headed towards the elevator. Bruce noticed how unnecessarily close he walked to him.

\- - - -

Bruce had never taken a shower and gotten dressed that fast. It took him around eight minutes to go to his room to tide up a little and go back to Tony’s room, wanting to be there when the latter finished showering.

When the doors of the elevator had opened in front of Tony’s floor, he hadn’t showed any intention of stepping out. He had just stood up there, scratching his upper arm and looking at everything but Bruce’s eyes. 

“Do you want me to stay for a while with you?” Bruce had offered, sensing that was exactly what Tony was waiting for. 

“Yes,” Tony had answered with hoarse and tiny voice after some minutes. 

So, holding his hand again, Bruce had leaded Tony outside the elevator, inside his room and then, inside the bathroom. Taking into account how tired they both were, Bruce might have as well put him to bed instead, but he figured Tony would sleep more comfortably if he took a shower first. 

For a second time, Tony had stood up nervously in the middle of the bathroom, giving the impression he hadn’t known what to do next. Bruce hadn’t been able to get himself to help him this time, tough. He wasn’t as nonchalant as Steve was with these things. Changing diapers was one thing, but in his head, bathing someone was way more intimate. Although it hadn’t been a matter of modesty, Bruce had seen Tony naked more times than he could remember, it had been more like a matter of vulnerability. Tony was too vulnerable and Bruce too dangerous. Imagining himself hulking out when Tony was that off-guard had made Bruce shiver. So, he had just made sure the water coming out from the showerhead was warm enough and then he had left. 

Uneasiness was still trying to take over him. That was why Bruce intended to lead healthy lifestyle, so he could always be clearheaded. He couldn’t shake the feeling that a clouded mind due to exhaustion or hunger would end up in an unwanted transformation. Should he go and wake Steve up? Surely, Steve would be better at handling this situation. No risk of sudden and catastrophic smashes at all. Moreover, Steve seemed to be in his element when it came to encouraging, hugging and comforting. 

The more Bruce thought about it, the better that idea sounded. However, he couldn’t even stand up from the bed before Tony opened the door of the bathroom. 

“I don’t need that anymore,” Tony stated as he went out the bathroom and standing next to the door frame, his eyes focused on the diaper Bruce had placed on the bed next to him. 

“I know that buddy, but I guess tonight it would be a good idea for you to wear one. Just in case.” Bruce proposed, leaving out the ‘just in case you have an accident’ on purpose, not wanting to make Tony feel more uncomfortable. 

“I’m not a kid,” Tony protested, holding tighter the towel he had around his waist. Bruce had forgotten to take something to the bathroom Tony could wear. 

“No one is saying you are,” Bruce clarified, trying to sound as much genuine as he could. 

“Diapers are for kids,” Tony whispered, a bit annoyed. Bruce didn’t understand what the problem was. It hadn’t been a long time since Tony wore diapers and he never seemed to have a problem with them. Yes, Tony had been complaining too much lately about being treated like a kid, but Bruce disagreed. In his opinion, they were just trying to look after him, as he showed he sometimes didn’t do it himself. 

“They’re not,” Bruce contradicted him.

“They are,” Tony refuted. There it was, that tiny voice which made Bruce uncomfortable, because it was a clear evidence that Tony wasn’t completely OK. “I dun wanna wear them,” he whined. 

Sighing, Bruce stood up and walked toward Tony, not impressed anymore by Tony’s lack of fightback when he held his hand and leaded him to the bed. 

“It’s just for one night,” Bruce said as he pushed Tony gently until he sat down on the bed. “You’ll sleep better if you know you won’t wake up on a soaked bed,” he continued, noticing how Tony mentally struggled to make up his mind, “and don’t worry, this is just between you and me,” he promised.

It took Tony several minutes to nod. Bruce waited patiently, knowing perfectly well pushing wasn’t the best way to convince Tony. Pushing him carefully once more until his back was against the mattress, Bruce proceeded to diaper him. No baby powder or diaper cream, as Bruce had told Tony, he did expect this to be only a one-night thing, so no worries about getting a rash. Then, Bruce approached the closet and looked for a t-shit he could put on Tony. 

Bruce didn’t know if he should be surprised or not to find that stuffed animal Clint had bought Tony some months ago on one of the shelves. Without giving it a second thought, he grabbed it along with the t-shirt and went back to where Tony was. Sitting to make it easier, Tony let himself being manipulated into the t-shirt. For a moment, Bruce thought Tony was going to get mad when he handed him the plush toy, but after showing varied emotions on his face and hesitating a lot, Tony took it. 

“Let’s try to sleep,” Bruce suggested – though it was more like an order than a suggestion – while he indicated Tony with his hand to move aside so there was space for him to lie down. Tony hadn’t said anything about wanting him to spend the night there, but the apprehensive look on his face had let Bruce know that that was exactly what he wanted. 

Bruce slumped down into the bed, the tiredness making its way back into every part of his body. He rearranged the pillow a couple of times until he found it comfortable and closed his eyes. Hopefully, they would sleep for six hours at least, more if it was possible. It had been a long time since the last time Bruce had been sleep-deprived and he didn’t like it anymore. He didn’t seem to understand how Tony could do this so often. 

Making a mental note of not letting Tony overwork himself again, no matter how fascinating his project was, Bruce tried to get to sleep, unsuccessfully. Tony was moving too much, surely looking for the right position but failing to do so. Bruce could feel it, he could sense Tony’s need for comfort, for a hug. Even so, he didn’t dare to get it, as he knew perfectly well Bruce and his discomfort with physical contact. 

Still, silencing that voice which told him it wouldn’t be a good idea, Bruce moved closer to Tony. Perhaps not close enough to make Tony think he was willing to let himself be hugged, but close enough so he could reach Tony’s head with his hand to pet his hair. Tony nuzzled into the touch and stopped fidgeting immediately. 

After some minutes, Bruce didn’t know how much time exactly as he was sure he must have dozen off a bit, he turned his head to see Tony and found him snuggled right beside him, his left arm well placed around the stuffed animal and a thumb lying loosely in his mouth. Bruce relaxed. 

He might have been tensed because of his own insecurities, but when he realized that the only thing that his exhausted being had done, without him knowing about it, had been humming a lullaby, Bruce knew that, at least for that night, everything was going to be all right. He turned carefully until he was lying on his right side and surrounded Tony with his left arm, smiling fondly when the latter snuggled even more against his chest.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this chapter unfinished for more than a couple of weeks, I just couldn't seem to make myself finish it. So today I sat down and made myself do it (procrastinating other things I didn't feel like doing either XD)
> 
> Find any mistakes? Please, leat me know. :)

Steve went too far sometimes. Waking her up at five o’clock in the morning, when she had gone to bed just a couple of hours before, had been too much. Being a spy meant that Natasha sometimes had to stay awake for days in a row during missions, so she would always go straight to bed after a finished job and sleep as long as her body needed. She dreaded being awoken during those times. If Steve had been anybody else, Natasha wouldn’t have hesitated to throw something sharp very close to the face just to make sure this situation wouldn’t happen again. That had been the way Clint had learned never to disturb her sleep. 

But it had been Steve, their team leader, the only one who she respected among the sometimes annoying males she now lived with. It was true she could kick some of their asses very easily, but that didn’t make her a guy. Natasha was still a woman and, contrary to what they all thought, she did mind when some of them walked around the Tower in all kinds of nakedness, leave their dirty clothing scattered across the communal rooms, and made all sort of inappropriate jokes. 

Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t dislike living there, on the contrary, it could be rather fun. It was just that, at times, there was just too much testosterone in the air. Steve was the only one who was careful with those details and tried to keep everyone else in line.

That had been the only reason why she had abstained herself from teaching Steve a lesson when he knocked at her door at such an early hour – OK, Captain America might not be one of the guys whose ass Natasha could kick, but at least she would have a small advantage, since Steve’s gentleness wouldn’t let him hit a woman. However, when Steve told her the reason of his visit, Natasha had had to refrain herself with all her might from shutting the door in his face. 

“Tony’s been shut in his workshop for two days,” Steve had said, looking truly worried. 

“And you’re telling me this shocking news because–?” Natasha questioned sarcastically, trying not to roll her eyes at him, but failing to do so. 

“I’m going running, so, would you mind checking on him?” Steve asked nervously, sensing her annoyance. 

“And you can do that yourself before leaving because–?” Natasha raised an eyebrow, one of her expressions which she knew spoke volumes. 

“Well, he gets kind of angry whenever I go into his workshop now,” Steve explained, scratching the right side of his nose. 

“Perhaps he wouldn’t get mad if you stopped treating him like a potato sack every time you go there,” Natasha observed, her eyebrow still raised. 

“I would do that if he stopped staying there for days,” Steve remarked, frowning. 

“You know he’s not a kid, right?” Natasha inquired, earning a confused look from Steve, “you keep telling him what to do and what not to do like you were some sort of parent. Yes, sometimes he can behave like a brat, but he’s an adult, and he can do whatever he wants,” she stated, folding her arms lazily against her abdomen. 

“I know,” Steve acknowledged, “it’s just that–,” he trailed off, taking some seconds to put his thoughts in order, “I feel responsible for all of you, in or out the battlefield, so I can’t help feeling worried when I see him overworking or starving himself for no valid reason,” he explained, though Natasha doubted that was the only reason. “So, would you check on him, please? Just to make sure he’s OK. You don’t have to do it right now,” he urged as soon as he saw her expression. 

Natasha couldn’t hide her annoyance anymore. That mother-hen trait of Steve was too much to bear that early in the morning with almost no sleep. So, she ended up closing the door with nothing more than a ‘sure, whatever’ for an answer. 

\- - - - - 

Natasha went right back to bed. Although that didn’t mean she had fallen asleep right away. In fact, she tossed and turned in bed unable to sleep for more than an hour until she let herself admit that sleeping wouldn’t be an option until she carried through Steve’s request. 

Placing a pillow over her head, she grunted loudly, not wanting to leave the bed but knowing there was no use staying there. Damn Steve and his absurd concern about Tony. 

Natasha had meant what she told Steve: Tony was an adult and he didn’t need to be taken care of. He might be a bit too reckless, imprudent and stubborn for his own good, which only leaded him to get himself into trouble, danger and look like a member of the living dead, but besides that, there was really nothing worth worrying about.

All right, perhaps Tony did need to be looked after from time to time, but being looked after wasn’t the same as being treated like a kid. Because that was what Steve did. No matter how much he denied it, Steve sometimes treated Tony like a kid. Well, now that Natasha thought about it, not only Steve did that, the others did that too. As far as Natasha was concerned, there was no real need to carry Tony to bed, or rock him back and forth to help him fall asleep. Entertaining him, reading to him before bed and spoon-feeding him was out of place too. It was true that Tony had had to wear diapers not long ago, but that didn’t make him a kid. So, all that seemed a bit off to Natasha. 

Mentally kicking herself, Natasha sat up and rubbed her temples, a vain attempt to get rid of the headache which began to pulsed at them. A sign that her body required more sleep. After waiting for some minutes so she could become used to the change of position, Natasha got out of bed. She might as well go and check on Tony, otherwise, that reproaching voice inside her head – which sounded awfully like Steve – wouldn’t let her rest peacefully. 

On the way to the elevator, Natasha wondered what Steve expected to happen to Tony while he was locked in his workshop. JARVIS would certainly let them know if anything bad happened, Tony might order the A.I. not to inform anything regarding him, but JARVIS had proved a few times that those orders could be easily overlooked when the wellbeing of its creator was in jeopardy. 

By the time the elevator reached its destination, Natasha’s eyes had closed without her realizing it. She must be more tired than she had thought. Her drowsy state didn’t last long, though. While the doors of the elevator were opening, the noise of a mild explosion resounded. The walls of the elevator reverberated slightly, vanishing all her stupor. When the doors finally opened, Natasha was put on guard due to a shadow that flew past her as she set one foot outside. 

“Tony?!” Natasha half cried, half called as soon as he heard that something or someone crashed into what was undoubtedly a glass. 

Stepping outside, she walked quickly to where she had heard the sound of the clash, and stopped dead at the sight of the scene in front of her. Tony had crashed into a display window, which was now broken into little pieces and scattered around the floor, along with several parts of an armor. Tony was sitting in the middle of all that mess, looking at everywhere, disoriented. 

“What the hell was that?!” Natasha asked, her eyes scanning Tony’s body searching for injures, but besides some scratches and cuts which didn’t look very deep, she couldn’t find anything that seemed serious. 

“Power,” Tony said, blinking several times. 

“Care to elaborate?” Natasha demanded as she got close to Tony.

“Too much of it,” Tony explained, taking the palm of the suit off. Natasha didn’t remember it being that big.

“Are you OK?” Natasha questioned, still looking for any sign that showed the opposite. 

“I guess I’ll have to recalibrate it,” he said more to himself than to Natasha, ignoring her question. Instead, he grabbed the huge hand of his armor with both hands and observed the repulsor beam closely. 

“The only thing you’re doing right now is going upstairs and rest,” Natasha informed, glaring at him. Did Tony really want to keep on working after what had happened? What was wrong with him? Suddenly, Steve’s obsessive concern didn’t seem that irrational at all. “Can you stand up?”

“Of course I won’t and of course I can.” Tony glared back. Natasha knew an argument was going to be inevitable, but she definitely wouldn’t let Tony stay there. Steve’s scolding would be endless if something serious happened to Tony, which was the most likely scenario considering how tired and disoriented he looked. 

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” Natasha informed while she folded her arms and raised an eyebrow, “you’ll go upstairs with me, you almost blew yourself up. I think that’s enough of a reason for you to realize you need to take a break.”

“I’m perfectly fine, I’ll take a break whenever I want,” Tony exclaimed coldly, trying to stand up.

That statement would have been plausible if Tony hadn’t lost his balance as soon as he was on his feet. Natasha hurried over him, placing a hand against his chest and the other on his arm, a vain attempt to help him remain standing, but the only thing Natasha achieved was making their fall slower, and, hence, less painful. Natasha was stronger than an average woman, but Tony wasn’t that light and he had taken her by surprised.

“You were saying?” Natasha couldn’t refrain herself from speaking sarcastically. If Tony only stopped being so insufferably stubborn, he would avoid all these kinds of situations. 

“Shut it,” Tony ordered, pushing her away and taking his head in his hands. 

Natasha sighed heavily, “Are you sure you’re OK?” she asked, trying to keep her annoyance at bay. 

“Of course I am,” Tony assured once more. The slight wince when he talked didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha. On the outside he looked fine, but now she wasn’t sure he really was.

“JARVIS? Can you tell me if there’s something wrong with Mr. Liar here?” Natasha questioned the A.I., knowing perfectly well that, if she really wanted to find out if there was something seriously wrong with Tony, that would be the only way. 

“It seems Sir has a mild concussion due to hitting his head against the glass when he crashed into it,” JARVIS informed. 

“Should I call a doctor?” Natasha suggested.

“No! I’m telling you I’m fine. Nobody is calling anybody!” Tony complained. It was no new news that he completely dreaded doctors. Natasha just rolled her eyes and ignored him.

“There’s no need to call a doctor, Ms. Romanov,” JARVIS assured.

“Are you sure? He just lost his balance and fell down,” Natasha reminded the A.I., though she was sure JARVIS was aware of that. 

“That was caused by a change in his blood pressure for standing up too quickly,” JARVIS clarified, “All my sensors indicate me there’s no need of further action, my only recommendation would be to keep an eye on him and don’t let him fall asleep at least for a couple of hours,” the A.I. finished saying.

\- - - - - 

Natasha was going to punch Steve for real now the next time he knocked at her door. Her plan of going back to bed as soon as she made sure that Tony was fine was a fading memory now. It had been more than half an hour since she came down to the workshop, and she was still there. 

The fact that JARVIS had assured the hit hadn’t been that serious made it impossible for Natasha to reason with Tony and convince him to go upstairs. When she managed to get JARVIS to shut the power down – in an attempt to make Tony’s stay vane as he wouldn’t be able to work that way – the only thing she achieved was causing Tony to sit down cross-legged on the floor and scowl (that expression on his face was definitely not a pout, adults didn’t pout). Then, already losing her patience, Natasha grabbed Tony by the ankles and pulled him, literally dragging him for a couple of meters until Tony let himself lie limp on the floor. Natasha had to stop then, afraid she might hurt him somehow if she continued. 

Thereafter, a glaring contest had started. Natasha might as well have left Tony there, but it turned out she was worry about him too. Perhaps if she hadn’t seen him smashing a glass with his body, she wouldn’t have cared if he wanted to stay in the workshop. But she had, and now there it was, the little voice in her head that was telling her it would be a bad judgment call if she left just like that.

“Don’t fall asleep!” Natasha ordered loudly when she saw Tony dozing off. He never wanted to sleep and now that he shouldn’t, that was exactly what he was doing. He had to be kidding her!

“I’m not!” Tony alleged, rubbing his eyes. 

Taking a few deep breaths, to try to remain calm, Natasha asked as politely as she could, “would you please stop this nonsense and just go upstairs with me?” though a hint of annoyance could be perceived. 

“I already told you I won’t. You leave if you want to, I’m staying right here,” Tony alleged. He was getting on her nerves more than Natasha would like to admit. Steve’s habit of just throwing Tony over his shoulder began to make sense now. 

“If I leave you’ll fall asleep.”

“I won’t, because I’m gonna be working,” Tony assured. The frequency in which he was blinking told otherwise. 

“How are you going to work without power?” Natasha questioned deadpan. The changing expression on Tony’s face when he came to the realization that JARVIS wouldn’t run the power even if he stayed there could have been considered funny, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Natasha was already too frustrated and annoyed. 

“I don’t care, I’m staying here,” Tony voiced after some minutes. Natasha couldn’t help throwing her hands into the air with a frustrated huff. 

Without being able to come up with ideas of how to take Tony upstairs – ideas that didn’t involve any kind of torture, of course – Natasha flopped down on the closest stool, looking slightly defeated. This was not happening. Why couldn’t her mission last one more day? Why had she had to deal with paperwork quickly? If she took more time than Clint to write her reports, the latter would have been the one who have gotten the knock on the door and not her. 

After other ten eternal minutes, Natasha was considering very seriously to just leave, remorse be damn. And she was sure she would have done so, if Tony’s stomach hadn’t growled.

Natasha was a better cook than Steve and Bruce, by far. She didn’t cook that often and not anyone was fortunate enough to try something she had made, but when they did, they always wanted more – that was why she avoid cooking. Tony had been one of the few lucky ones – by accident, Natasha wouldn’t have step foot in the kitchen if she had known Tony would get back from his business trip that day – and since then, Tony had been all over her, even offering thousands of dollars to just cook the simplest things. Undoubtedly, Natasha had to put a stop to it. 

“You know, it’s a shame you don’t want to go upstairs with me,” Natasha commented as casually as she could, looking at her nails as if she had found something very interesting in them.

Tony looked at her skeptically, “Why?”

“I’m having breakfast,” Natasha announced, standing up.

“So what?”

Natasha smirked, “I’m in a mood of cooking. It’s been a while since the last time I made syrniki,” she noted, and it was almost cartoonish the way Tony stood up and run towards the elevator. 

OK, she admitted it, maybe the others weren’t the only ones who dealt with Tony like if they were dealing with a kid. 

\- - - - - 

“Would you please stay still?” Natasha ordered for a third time, trying to get access to the cuts Tony had in his arms, but the latter kept moving away as far as the back of the couch let him.

“You’re hurting me!” Tony complained, sounding unnecessarily dramatic.

“I’m not! I’m just trying to clean your wounds!” Natasha said, grabbing Tony’s wrist to keep him still, which only made him move more attempting to get free. “Tony!”

“You’re a liar!” Tony accused, taking Natasha aback. 

“What?”

“You said you were gonna make breakfast,” Tony explained, taking advantage of Natasha’s confusion to move away from her.

“I am!” Natasha assured 

“You’re not! You’re here torturing me!” Tony literally whined. 

Natasha huffed annoyingly, “well, someone had to make sure your cuts don’t get infected,” and she couldn’t explain why that someone had to be her. 

“They won’t! Stop that, it stings!” Tony demanded when Natasha leaned on him again to press the piece of cotton dampened with hydrogen peroxide on his skin. “I’m hungry!” he informed, pushing Natasha again with one of his feet. 

“Then let me finish so we can head to the kitchen!” Natasha ordered while she dodged Tony’s kicks.

“No!” 

“Jesus! You’re worse than a child!” Natasha stated, flopping down onto the couch next to Tony. 

“I’m not a baby!” Tony said, offended, hitting Natasha on the face with a cushion. Again, could someone explain her what she was still doing there?

“I said child, not baby,” Natasha corrected, throwing the cushion back at him, regretting it as soon as she saw Tony wince. “I’ve never seen any adult making such a fuss over these insignificant wounds!” she finished saying before getting hit with a cushion once more. She shouldn’t have given it back to Tony, “Stop that!” she demanded, throwing the cushion to the other side of the room. 

“Stop calling me a child!” Tony alleged, and this time there was no doubt he was pouting. 

Natasha glared at him, “stop behaving like one then!” 

“I’m not!” Tony insisted, kicking her in the leg.

“Yes, you are! You’re being insufferably stubborn just like a kid, the only thing that’s missing is that you finally let me clean your cuts if I promise to use the Avengers band-aids when I’m done,” Natasha said ironically, expecting another hit with a cushion, but when she turned to look at Tony, her jaw dropped. His eyes were practically twinkling. 

“Do they make band-aids with our pictures on them?” Tony exclaimed, clearly delighted by the idea. Natasha had never been able to understand why Tony found all the Avengers merchandising so thrilling. “I’ve never seen one. I thought I’ve gotten all there was of us, how could I miss those? Can I get one? I’m suing the company if Clint’s pose is better than mine!” Tony said more to himself than to Natasha, which was good since Natasha's mouth continued open in amazement. 

No sooner said than done, Tony promised to stay still if Natasha got him one of the band-aids she had mentioned. She didn’t even know why she still had them, she rarely kept what fans gave her – Natasha couldn’t understand why people tended to give them things with the Avengers printed on them, like if she wanted to sleep with a plushy of hers or worse, Clint’s – but she was glad she did. Because even if she wanted so badly to make a sardonic comment about how childish Tony was being, she ended up biting her tongue.

The moment Natasha saw Tony smiling for having a useless (in her opinion) band-aid of Captain America covering one small cut on his cheek, all the anger that had accumulated since Steve knocked at her door vanished. Even his little outburst about how wrong it was to have included Wolverine made Natasha smile slightly. She might not truly agree with way the others tended treat Tony sometimes, but Natasha was now beginning to understand why they did it. There was something in the way Tony reacted that made it acceptable and not awkward at all. That made it somehow fit. It didn’t mean Natasha was going to get all mother-hen on Tony like Steve, but she would try to not to give Steve a hard time when he did it. 

Natasha even tried to persuade Steve to not take Tony to a doctor when he arrived. But after hearing about the incident in the workshop, Steve had dragged Tony out of the Tower to get him checked by a SHIELD doctor. Without really admitting it, Natasha felt sorry for Tony – something unusual on her. They hadn’t even had the chance to go to the kitchen, and Tony made sure of voicing his displeasure of a broken promise loudly and pitifully at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course Natasha made sure of making something for Tony at the end :p.
> 
> Anyway, these are the [band-aids](http://shopping.c.yimg.jp/lib/marblemarble/zak-oth-01424-img.jpg) I was thinking of when I wrote this :p


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hum, one of those days when you wish you had stayed in bed. Writing helps a bit, though for me is finishing something unfinished the thing that gives me a bit of satisfaction and comfort.
> 
> So, this is the last chapter of this story, now I can finally focused on the next installment (which I already started XD) and on other stories I have unfinished. 
> 
> Even though I sound like a broken record, please let me know if there's any mistake in the spelling or grammar :)

“Grounded,” Phil said slowly, playing with the word in his tongue.

“Shut up,” Tony ordered, glaring at him.

“You are grounded,” Phil repeated, emphasizing each word more than necessary, trying to get the meaning through his head.

“Shut up,” Tony demanded again, crossing his arms over his chest a bit too briskly. 

“Steve grounded you,” Phil half stated, half asked, “Steve grounded _you_.” Perhaps, if Phil repeat that sentence aloud enough times, his brain would finally comprehend what was happening. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Tony shouted angrily, stomping his foot. 

“And I’m babysitting.” That was another thing he hadn’t been able to understand, and saying it out loud just made the whole situation more surreal. 

This was definitely not the first time Phil had babysat Tony, but this was the first time that Steve had asked him to do so. Not to look after Tony because he still wasn’t completely recovered, not to keep an eye on him because he might require assistance with diapers he needed to use due to a temporal incontinence problem, not to make sure he didn’t do anything reckless that could interfere with his recovery. No, Phil had been literally asked to babysit Tony because he was grounded, the kind of punishment in which all your gadgets are taken away and you are not allowed to leave your room until further notice – or in Tony’s case, go inside his workshop until further notice.

“I’m babysitting you because Steve grounded you.” OK, Phil may have started to sound a little stupid for having been repeating the same thing for over ten minutes now, but he hadn’t been able to come to terms with it yet. 

“Would you shut up already?” Tony commanded, clearly annoyed. Well, more annoyed than he had been when he saw Phil coming inside the room and Steve had notified him Phil was going to be his babysitter. 

“Why are you even grounded?” Phil asked, though Natasha had already told him in broad terms about the incident she had witnessed in Tony’s workshop less than a week ago. Steve had been very pissed about the irresponsible way Tony had decided to act, refusing to go to the doctor right away. So, Steve had grounded Tony, because, apparently, Phil had been sent to an alternative universe where grounding was the proper way to teach Tony how to be responsible. 

“I’m not grounded!” Tony reaffirmed, sounding offended. 

“Steve hadn’t let you go down your workshop nor come close to any of your cell phones or tablets, that does sound like being grounded to me,” Phil pointed out. Tony’s glare deepened, “And he asked me to come and babysit you to make sure you didn’t do any of the things you weren’t supposed to do until he lifted your punishment,” he finished saying, making Tony thrust out his lips. A pout. Tony had been pouting very often lately. 

“Steve’s an ass,” Tony declared, mumbling. Phil could tell Tony didn’t really mean that by the tone of his voice. “They’re gonna get kill just because he didn’t let me go on the mission with them,” he implied, Phil doubted that. It was truth the Avengers had been sent on a mission, but it had been a spy mission. Those kind of missions turned out better when Iron man was left out. Having the habit of showing up with an AC/DC song turn up full blast wasn’t a good idea when the most essential thing to achieve victory was going unnoticed. 

“I’m pretty sure they’ll be just fine,” Phil assured, “if, by chance, I’m notified something went wrong and they need help, I’m sending you over there, grounded or not,” he promised, though he knew that was very unlikely to happen. Tony pouted even more, realizing his chances of going on a mission were almost non-existent. “So, what are you allow to do?” Phil asked conversationally, if he was going to be stuck there until the other ones came back, he might as well do something to entertain himself.

“I’m not grounded!” Tony growled, sounding less and less convincing to Phil’s ears every time he said that.

“OK, OK… what’s something we could do that won’t make Steve get angrier at you?” Phil reformulated the question. Tony’s expression indicated him that he hadn’t seen any difference between the previous question and the last one. 

“You could leave me the fuck alone and go,” Tony suggested.

“Even if that suggestion sounds great, I promised Steve I’d stay here,” Phil informed. If Captain America asked Phil to do something, he would certainly do it, no matter how odd it seemed to him.

Tony mumbled something Phil couldn’t hear, but he figured it must have been a curse or something of the kind. Then, Tony looked away and said nothing more. 

Phil sighed heavily, still finding it hard to believe he was literally babysitting Tony Stark.

\- - - -

“I wanna go out,” Tony spoke out after thirty minutes of pure silence. Phil barely heard him, as he had been dozing off for the last ten minutes. 

“What?” 

“I wanna go out,” Tony repeated.

“Go out? Where?” Phil asked, trying to suppress a yawn.

“I don’t know. Anywhere,” Tony said, standing up from the corner he had been pouting from ever since Steve and the others left. 

Phil squinted at him suspiciously, “I get the feeling leaving the Tower is something Steve won’t be happy about.”

“You told me what I wanted to do. That’s what I wanna do. I wanna go out,” Tony said stubbornly. “I’m sick of being locked in here,” he expressed a bit too dramatically, “What? I need fresh air!” he emphasized when Phil threw him a skeptical glance.

“You don’t even believe that yourself. You only want to go outside to make Steve upset,” Phil assured. Because that was what Tony liked to do. The most reasonable thing to do when someone was mad at you was backing off, but not Tony. According to his way of thinking, pushing all the buttons was the correct way of handling situations like these. “Well, more upset than he already is,” Phil pointed out. 

“That’s not true!” Tony assured, sounding offended. “I can’t stand being shut in anymore! It’s driving me crazy!” continued, his arms flailing around to emphasize his frustration. 

“And I’m supposed to believe that after seeing you locked away for days in you workshop? Please Tony, give me more credit,” Phil said, unsmiling. 

“You said it, in my workshop. The workshop is fine, but I’m not there right now, am I?,” Tony asked, starting to pace in front of the couch where Phil was sitting on. “When I’m there for a long time is because my mind is entertained with something, here I have nothing to entertain myself with, I’m bored out of my mind! I really need to get out of here!”

Still not buying it, Phil declared with a deadpan expression on his face, “So you never want to go out, and now that you can’t, you’re telling me that is exactly what you want to do? Again, give me credit.”

“What?! I always want to go outside!” Tony stated, raising an eyebrow as if he didn’t truly understand why Phil wasn’t getting him. 

“So the times you hid from Pepper because you didn’t want to go out, you were just pretending, right?” Phil questioned a bit ironically. 

“She wanted me to go to boring meetings, no one wants to go to boring meetings,” Tony excused himself, still pacing.

“And the times Thor asked you to go sightseeing with him?”

“I hate doing touristic stuff.”

“And when Clint asked you to… OK, no, forget that time, you going out with Clint is definitely not a good idea,” Phil came to that conclusion by himself, scratching his chin. “But what about the times Steve asks you to go with him somewhere, you always find an excuse not to do it.”

“Again with the boring stuff.”

“You’re just making excuses,” Phil assured, trying to ignore Tony’s fake suffering expression. 

“I’m not! Pleeease?” Tony implored, stopping right in front of Phil. 

Phil crossed his arms over his chest, determined not to give in, “no.”

“Pleeease,” Tony begged, though his tone of voice showed it wasn’t for real. 

“No.”

“Pretty please?” Puppy eyes went with the begging. Phil rolled his eyes. 

“No!” 

“C’mon! I’m dying here!” Tony said melodramatically, flopping down onto the floor.

“No!”

“Pleeease!” Tony kept pleading, pulling Phil’s pants. 

“No!” Phil repeated, trying to shake Tony’s grip on his pants off.

“Pleeeeeeaaase.”

“Stop it! You might get what you want from the others with these ridiculous melodramas, but they’re not working on me,” Phil affirmed.

“What if I throw a tantrum?” Tony suggested, a bit cynically. 

“For someone who gets mad every time he’s called a kid, I don’t see that happening,” Phil reasoned, but because of how things had been lately, now he wasn’t sure Tony didn’t consider throwing a fit right there, kicking included. Just the idea of it made Phil shudder. 

Tony looked up at him, thoughtful. Phil shuddered even more. “If that’s what’s necessary to convince you to let me go out, I might think about it.”

“Please, don’t.” Now Phil was the one who implored. 

“Then let’s go out,” Tony suggested once more, restarting the pulling of Phil’s pants job. 

“I already told you no!” Phil reminded him, standing up with the intention of getting away from Tony, but the latter didn’t loosen his grip and Phil ended up dragging Tony for some inches while he continued saying ‘please’ in such a whiney way it was beginning to get really annoying. “Stop it!” he ordered. 

“C’mon!” Tony kept whining, “Why did you ask me what I wanted to do if you weren’t going to let me do it?”

“Because I forgot you always want to do what you were told not to do!” Phil alleged, shaking off Tony’s grip for a second time and walking away to prevent him from grabbing his ankle again. “I don’t want to be scolded by Steve because I let you do something you’re not allowed.” Captain America being mad at him? No, thanks. That was something Phil would certainly avoid at all costs. 

“Well, technically, Steve never said anything about not being allow to go outside, the only place he doesn’t want me to go is the workshop,” Tony informed, getting up from the floor and going after Phil. The latter walked faster, not wanting to listen to any more of Tony’s reasoning. 

“Then how come he didn’t even let you go out for the mission?” Phil demanded, stopping dead in his tracks, causing Tony to bump into him. 

“That was because, according to him, you can’t do any fighting for a week at least after a concussion,” Tony said, sounding boring on purpose, “and I stress, according to him, not to the doctor.”

“I don’t care. Think about something else you want to do, because there’s no way I’m changing my mind. We’re not going anywhere outside the Tower. Period.” Phil assured, turning around and looking at Tony, a frown on his face. 

\- - - -

And, of course, they didn’t stay in. 

If being over dramatic didn’t work on Phil, being extremely annoying certainly did. After hearing Tony say ‘please’ for more than a thousand times – and he was not going too far with the number – Phil just had to go out to make him shut up – peeing while someone is knocking on the door and shouting ‘can we go out?’ can really get on someone’s nerves. 

“I swear, if you get away from me one more time, I’m getting one of those safety harnesses mothers use to keep their children close, and, God help me! I’m making sure you use it!” Phil warned, yelling at Tony in a mumbling way, as he grabbed his wrist to stop him from walking away. This was the third time Phil had to jog to catch up with him. Telling Steve that they left the Tower was mortifying enough without having to add an ‘I lost him’ part to the sentence. 

“You walk too slowly,” Tony complained, but he did slow down. 

“No, you’re walking too fast. Why are you even walking fast? You don’t even know where you want to go, we’ve been just wandering around for twenty minutes now,” Phil stated, pissed. “I swear to God if you wanted to go out just to get rid of me, I’m putting you in charge of rookies for the rest of your life! You’re never going to set foot on a battlefield ever again!” he threatened, knowing perfectly well that that’d be something Tony would totally loathe.

“Relax! I’m not doing that,” Tony promised, shoving his hand into his pockets, “I meant what I said, I just wanted some fresh air. I never said there was somewhere in particular I wanted to go,” Tony observed, though that didn’t do anything to ease Phil’s nerves. 

For all the time they kept walking, Phil didn’t take his eyes off Tony, not even for a second. Every time Tony got just a few inches away from him, Phil pulled him by the arm, sure that Tony’s sudden interest on whatever that was behind a store window was just an excuse to run off at the first opportunity. By the time Phil started to relax a little and really pay attention to their surroundings, he realized they had reached Central Park and were walking through it. Great, a place where Tony could easily get away and hide from him. 

“You know, it’s not very safe to come here when it’s already gone dark,” Phil implied, looking at how deserted the paths looked. Central Park was usually crowded, and it sometimes had night time activities, but on a weekday night there didn’t seem to be much of movement. 

“I assure you that whoever tries to mug us won’t have enough time to draw a gun,” Tony replied, raising his hand to show him a bracelet. 

“And how do you plan on getting JARVIS to deploy a suit? Steve has your cell phone,” Phil questioned skeptically. It wasn’t that he was afraid or anything like that. He himself was capable of taking down any mugger who was stupid enough to try to rob them. He was actually curious about the answer, since it may give him a clue why they had ended up there.

Tony turned his head until Phil was able to see his right ear, specifically the earphone he had in it, “I can always get hold of JARVIS.” 

\- - - -

“OK, that’s it, let’s go,” Phil said all of a sudden, standing up and grabbing Tony’s hand. 

“What? But I haven’t done anything wrong!” Tony complained when Phil pulled him until he stood up from the bench they’d been sitting on, “I don’t wanna go back yet!”

“We’re not going back yet,” Phil informed as he started to walk, still holding Tony’s hand to make him go along that way. 

They had gone deep into the park, until they had reached a nice desolated playground and sat down on the nearest bench. It had taken Phil several minutes to be able to relax, the fact that Tony was looking at everywhere around them tensed him once more, as his mind told him Tony was looking for an escape route. Thankfully, Tony never made any attempt to leave. So, Phil just sat down next to him, contemplating what the dim streetlight bulbs and the moon let him see. 

It had been pretty nice. Phil didn’t remember when the last time he had had the chance to do this had been, his life had become very chaotic since he had joined SHIELD. So, enjoying the outdoors was something he almost never do anymore. The sky was clear, the air pleasantly cool and the company, well, not the person and the circumstances Phil would have chosen if he had been given the chance, but at least Tony had been quiet, something Phil certainly appreciate. Tony could be too talkative sometimes. 

That had been the reason why Phil had glanced at Tony, because the latter was never quiet when he was with someone else. Unless Tony was mad, which Phil doubted, after all, he had agreed to go out. And that had been when Phil saw the way Tony was looking at the swings, a stare which radiated such a longing that made Phil feel uneasy somehow. Was Tony remembering something from his childhood? Had he ever come to this park and play in those swings and that was making him nostalgic? Phil doubted that, according to what he had read on his file, that scenario couldn’t be something Tony experienced. 

Phil forced himself not to give it a lot of though, and tried to focus on his landscape that laid in from of him again, but unconsciously, he kept looking at Tony out of the corner of his eye. After several minutes, Tony’s desire to go over the swings was so palpable, it was making Phil anxious, especially since it seemed Tony wasn’t willing to do anything about it. 

“Then why are you pulling me? Where are you taking me?” Tony asked annoyed, though he didn’t do anything to stop Phil from dragging him. His eyebrows came together in a look of total confusion when Phil stop in front of the swings. Then, he raised an eyebrow in a silent question, clearly not understanding Phil’s intention.

“Go on them,” Phil ordered, pointing at the swings. 

Tony raised his eyebrow even more, “What? Why?”

“Because you clearly want to swing on them,” Phil stated, a mix of frustration and boredom in his voice. 

“What? Of course I don’t!” Tony assured. Phil couldn’t help rolling his eyes, he knew Tony was lying.

“You and I both know you do, so let’s get it over with so we can go back to the Tower,” Phil insisted, getting the feeling he would have to deal with a pouty Tony if he didn’t persuade him to play on the swings. 

Without giving Tony the time to argued, Phil pushed him down gently. Hesitation took over Tony for a moment, but after some seconds, in which his face clearly showed a mental battle deciding whether he should or not, he let himself being pushed until he was sitting down on a swing. 

“But it’s for kids,” Tony mumbled shyly, and even under the dim light the street lamp provided, Phil could see the sight of a pink blush on his cheeks. 

“Well, you fit, didn’t you?” Phil asked, smiling at Tony encouragingly. And Tony certainly had. Maybe he would have to be more careful and bend his legs a bit more than a child would when he pumped on the swing to not hit the ground, but that was pretty much it. “C’mon, I’ll help you,” Phil offered when Tony failed to do anything else but hold on to the chains, walking to stand right behind him. Tony turned his head and looked at him nervously, still thinking if it was a good idea. “Hold on tight, besides having to tell Steve that I let you out and I didn’t send you to bed at the time he told me to, I don’t want to have to tell him that you hurt yourself because you fell of a swing,” he asked, getting a shy nod for an answer. 

Slowly and carefully, Phil began to push him, not gathering a lot of momentum. Tony sat down a bit too rigidly, his head turning everywhere as if he was making sure nobody was around, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of being seen like that. Although it didn’t take long for him to start asking Phil to push him harder so he could go higher, and in less than five minutes, he was swinging by himself. 

Phil stepped aside and sat down on the swing next to Tony’s, his eyes glued on the latter, on the alert. He didn’t know why, but he got the feeling Tony would be the kind of kid – person – who would try to jump off the swing when it was still moving, and he was ready to refrain Tony from doing that as soon as he show any sign of even thinking about it. Thankfully, the only sign Tony showed was an expression of pure enjoyment. Phil could even swear he heard Tony giggling a couple of times when he managed to go really high. That feeling caused in the stomach when you managed to go very high could be very fascinating. 

The whole babysitting thing turned out to be not so bad. Yes, everything was still too surreal for Phil. Because really, Steve grounding Tony? No matter how much he thought of it, it still sounded weird. But when Phil told Tony it was time to go back home and the latter didn’t refute at all, not even when he was told to wash up and go to bed as soon as they arrived, the grounding thing was pushed into the background. 

Now the thing Phil found hard to understand wasn’t why Steve grounded Tony, but why Tony allowed to be grounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I've never been to New York (Though I hope I go there someday), so I don't know how far The Avengers Tower is from Central Park. I was doing research on the Internet and, according to where the Tower is supposed to be, it's not that far, and I considered it could be a walking distance (but I like walking and I walk a lot and fast, so, I guess I'm not the best person to judge this xD), but if it's not, well, sorry for that :p
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> And thanks for all your nice comments, they do make my day :D


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